


A Doomed Ceasefire

by FirebirdsDaughter



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdsDaughter/pseuds/FirebirdsDaughter
Summary: Funny, isn't it?How everything can change in an instant.
Relationships: Fuwa Isamu & Hiden Aruto, Fuwa Isamu & Izu (Kamen Rider Zero-One), Fuwa Isamu & Yaiba Yua
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	A Doomed Ceasefire

**Author's Note:**

> Just a crappy, depressing little thing that got into my head after we learned about the brain chip stuff. ^^;  
> I'm so sorry, Fuwa.  
> I promise I have other ideas where things are going well for you.
> 
> I often write when I should be sleeping, so I apologise for any typos and errors.

“Hiden-shachou.”

Fuwa’s voice and a hand grabbing his wrist brought Aruto up short when he tried to march toward Amatsu, cutting through the anger roaring in his ears. He looked over his shoulder at Vulcan, blinking in confusion. Fuwa wasn’t looking at him, gaze focused instead on the white-clad figure in front of them. “Whatever happens, promise me you won’t do _anything_ he wants.”

“Your statement implies you are aware of circumstances that we do not know.” Izu said when Aruto was too stunned and bewildered to reply. When she tilted her head questioningly, there was a worried look in her expression. “Can you elaborate?”

Fuwa didn’t respond immediately, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he turned back toward Aruto, giving him a very serious stare. “ _Promise_.” He repeated, his grip tightening on Aruto’s wrist.

“… Okay.” Aruto managed, at last. “I promise.”

Fuwa kept holding his arm for a moment, eyes still on his face for a little longer than seemed necessary. Then he let him go. “… Alright.” He jerked his head in the direction of Thouser.

Despite the new, uneasy feeling in his chest, Aruto nodded and continued forward, stopping a few paces across from Amatsu. Yaiba was a few steps away from Thouser’s shoulder, looking distinctly uncomfortable, in a position Aruto couldn’t help noticing mirrored where Fuwa and Izu were behind him. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he glared at Amatsu. “What do you want?” His fingers were itching to reach for his equipment—he hated the fact that both Vulcan and Izu were right about at least initially honouring the cease fire request.The situation was bad enough already, the last thing they needed was him getting labelled as even more unhinged than he already was because he attacked Thouser after the bastard had made such a show of calling a public cease fire.

Amatsu smirked like he always did. “Isn’t it obvious?” He drawled. “Same thing as before. I want the HumaGear data.”

Aruto fought the urge to roll his eyes, gritting his teeth. “That’s not happening.”

Thouser’s smirk did not waver. “Still being obstinate, Hiden?” He sneered, eyes narrowing. “Surely there’s some way we can work things out?”

It felt like they were slogging through the dreariest play in history. He knew Amatsu was plotting something, but not knowing what felt like standing on hot coals. He tried to keep his face impassive as multiple worries ran in circles through his mind—he knew Fuwa would back him up if anything happened, but he still wondered if Vulcan could close the distance in time, whether either of them would be able to make it to Izu fast enough if Thouser aimed for her… “I find it hard to believe there’s any sort of deal we’d agree on.” He snapped.

“Oh?” Amatsu tilted his head. “… You’re very fond of your secretary.” The man shot a disgusted glance towards Izu, “I might be convinced to let that one be, on certain conditions.”

Aruto had to bite down hard on his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud bitterly. Unfortunately, Thouser’s air was still so collected that he doubted this was an act of desperation. It felt like Amatsu was in control of this situation all over again, and Aruto hated it. “You honestly expect me to believe that?” Really, at this point, it was like the man had a giant sign reading ‘liar’ flashing above his head with an arrow.

As if responding to Aruto’s train of thought, Amatsu’s smirk became an obnoxiously photogenic grin. “Well, I figured it was worth a try.” Then he was rummaging in his coat—his hand returned with a suspiciously familiar set of glasses. “To be honest…” He set the glasses on his face, adding the additional piece by his ear. “Your ridiculous sentimentality is becoming vexing…” Thouser finished adjusting the Spec casually, “So I thought I’d handle two birds with one stone.”

Aruto frowned, trying to shift his hand as subtly as he could toward his Driver. He did not like the sound of this. “… What are you…?”

“Provide some proper incentive…” Amatsu continued coolly, “… And give you a lesson on how tools should be used.” Reaching up, he tapped the Spec.

Everything happened simultaneously in a fraction of a second. Yaiba took a step forward, her eyes widening, hand flying up as she started to shout something. Aruto heard movement behind him at the same time, and a faint memory, clouded by panic, clicked in his head, making him spin around. Fuwa had also moved closer, reaching out toward him, something in his expression Aruto couldn’t read fast enough as a syllable that sounded like the beginning of his name left Vulcan’s lips. Then the tension in the air snapped just as soon as it had come.

Fuwa crashed to his knees, clutching his head. Izu was already rushing to him as a frantic cry that sounded Valkyrie split the air. Aruto joined her a step behind, kneeling beside the other Rider, each of them reaching out to clutch at one of his shoulders uselessly. “Fuwa-san!?”

Amatsu’s grin didn’t falter. “A tool exists to be utilised to provide the greatest benefit for its master,” He lectured cheerfully, “Until it has exhausted all uses.”

Aruto tried to glare at him, but then Fuwa slumped forward, almost falling head first into the ground, forcing him to look away and scramble to catch his arms. “Fuwa-san…!” He cast a quick, furious glance at Amatsu, “Stop!”

Thouser just laughed, an awful noise. “So you understand?” He asked casually, as if he were talking to a small child. Yaiba stood frozen at his side, her expression nothing but pure horror. “Then I’d appreciate you handing over the data. Vulcan won’t last forever, and I’d rather not break a tool if I don’t have to.”

For another moment, there was a fragile, almost-calm as Vulcan continued to hold it in—Aruto could see blood on the other Rider’s lower lip as he dug his teeth into it—then Thouser tapped the Spec again, and it seemed to glow even brighter. Fuwa broke, his voice tearing from him as a tortured scream. He collapsed sideways into Aruto, his body starting to convulse, so badly that the young man hurriedly wrapped his arms around him, holding the other Rider to his chest, frantically trying to pin his arms and restrain him so that he couldn’t hurt himself or either of them. “Fuwa!” Izu’s hands on Vulcan’s shoulder tightened into fists, gripping his jacket, the same look on her face that she’d had when Amatsu had tried to kill her.

“Did I stutter?” Amatsu asked, voice just low enough to be audible through Fuwa’s agonised screaming. “Hand over the data. Or are you really willing to sacrifice Vulcan to save a bunch of robots?”

Fuwa’s screaming began to crack, his voice wearing out. He twisted around in Aruto’s arms, onto his back, still thrashing violently against the young man’s hold. When his nails scraped Aruto’s arm, leaving red marks, Izu leaned in a caught his wrists to still them, her motions clipped and mechanical. Aruto was desperately trying to think straight; he couldn’t give up the data, he knew what Amatsu would do with it, but all it took was another quickly glance at Thouser to know the man wouldn’t stop torturing Vulcan until he had what he wanted.

Or… Did he even want it? He’d been reading Aruto perfectly since the start. Amatsu knew how much he’d stakes in HumaGear. He’d been forced to allow the man to bring the Spec if he wanted to bring Izu, one ‘piece of technology’ each, he couldn’t use this as justification to attack. His blood ran cold as he remembered that persistent, creeping sense that this was a trap, and realised he’d been right. This ‘ceasefire’ had been nothing more than an excuse for Thouser to pin him in a position where he had no choice but to watch Fuwa suffer. This wasn’t negotiation, it was a show of power.

In his arms, Vulcan’s screams tapered off into choked gasps, his convulsions fading into twitches as his body ran out of the strength to even respond to the pain. His eyes were glazed over, and rolled back in his head as he started going limp, in too much agony to even react anymore. Sweat was beading his forehead, and Izu quickly took advantage of the new stillness to lean in and smooth his damp hair back from sticking to his face, cupping his cheek in her hand.

Aruto looked back up at Thouser frantically. He knew begging wouldn’t work, but half of him was ready to try anyway. The other half wanted to just snap on his Driver on and begin pounding the smug smirk off Amatsu’s face, crush the Spec under his heel. Wanted to…

“… Hiden…” Fuwa’s voice didn’t even sound like him anymore, growled through gritted teeth, twisted with agony, raw from screaming. “… Aruto…!”

At the sound of his first name, Aruto dragged his eyes away from glaring at Amatsu to look back down at the older man pinned in his arms. Aruto’s shaking hands tightened on the other Rider’s suit jacket, gripping handfuls of cloth so hard his knuckles were turning white as he tried to steady his own breathing, pulling the older man tighter against his chest. “Fuwa-san…?!”

Fuwa’s arm flew up, almost hitting Izu, and his hand scrambled for purchase on the back of Aruto’s head, in too much pain to properly command his own body. Grabbing a handful of the young man’s hair, Vulcan pulled slightly to make sure Aruto was looking at him.Aruto let the other Rider pull his head down, trying to do his best to focus, even though his vision was blurring slightly with tears, water dripping off his cheeks and onto Fuwa’s face.

For a moment, Vulcan’s lips moved but no sound came out aside from pained, broken gasps, his hand holding tighter to Aruto’s hair. Then, somehow, squinting through the agony, he managed to focus his eyes on the young man’s face. “Aruto…” Underneath the pain, there was a tenderness in Vulcan’s voice that made Aruto’s chest feel like it was being cleaved in two. “You…” He rasped faintly, “… Listen… You…” Very slightly, in jerks and twitches, the corners of Fuwa’s lips turned upward, trying to smile at Aruto. He pulled the young man’s head down even further until their foreheads were almost touching, clearly forcing himself to concentrate through his suffering, “… You go… Toward your dream…” Vulcan’s voice broke, and his eyes squeezed closed for a moment as he fought to recover it, “… You’d better… Go for it…”

Aruto’s own hand fumbled its way up from Fuwa’s shoulder to his arm, anxious to hold his hand, but not making it all the way. This sounded far too familiar. “No… Fuwa-san, don’t…!”

But Vulcan’s hand tightened on his hair. “… You’d better…” He repeated, in a tone that sounded almost like one of his usual growls—then his eyes widened, and he jolted, his whole body tensing… And then went limp, his hand slipping from Aruto’s hair and dropping to the ground. His heartbeat, always so steady and powerful, pounded weakly against Aruto’s chest a few more times—then stopped.

Aruto’s own heart sped up, skipping beats, leaping into his throat. “… Fuwa-san…?” Fuwa’s eyes were open, but they were staring blankly—just like they did every time Amatsu had activated the chip, but this… This was different. “Fuwa-san!”

Beside him, Izu’s eyes were wide, blue lights shining in her irises—until they flickered out, and she slumped back, looking stunned. “… No life signs detected.”

Aruto stared at her in horror. “No…” The word was a croak. He shook his head slowly, then frantically, looking between her and Fuwa in rising panic. “No… No… No no no no no no no no…!” Hurriedly untangling his arms from around Vulcan, he carefully lowered the other Rider to the ground, being wary of his head, then set the heels of his palms against Fuwa’s chest and began compressions. But his movements were messy and frenzied, shoulders shaking, muttering ‘no’ to himself on repeat. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a sound that might have been Amatsu laughing, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. But it wasn’t working. He pushed harder, his amateur attempts at resuscitation deteriorating even more until he was banging against Vulcan’s chest as hard as he could.

Hands appeared on his shoulders, trying to pull him back. “Aruto-shachou-” Even Izu’s voice sounded distant and meaningless.

“No!” He jerked out of her hold, flailing his arms to try and push her away. “Let go!” Flinging himself at Fuwa again, he tried to restart compressions. “I can’t lose him, too!” He kept trying, but his motions were too hysterical and chaotic, and he eventually dissolved into pounding on Vulcan’s chest with his fist. “I can’t! Lose him! Too!” With one last broken sob, he brought his fist down on the other Rider’s chest as hard as he could—then stayed there, wavering like a piece of grass in a strong wind. “I… I can’t…” His shoulders fell forward, shaking even more as his voice broke again, “I can’t lose him, too…” Loosening from a fist, his hand turned to grip Fuwa’s shirt again, clutching tightly. “I… I’m so sorry…” With a small sob, he slumped forward completely, his head dropping down onto Vulcan’s chest, “I’m so sorry…!”

Izu slowly fell back, eyes still wide with shock, sitting back in her heels. Leaning forward slightly, she reached out and gently passed her hand over Fuwa’s face, closing his eyes. That done, she moved over a little to reach down and take his fallen hand in both of hers, clutching it to her chest and bowing her head.

“How unfortunate.” Amatsu’s voice, cruelly casual, grated on their hearing. “Seems I overdid it.” Aruto’s sobs faltered, the shaking slowing, and Izu’s head raised. Thouser wasn’t even looking at them, gazing off somewhere at the horizon, hands linked behind his back now that he had no reason to reach for the ZAIA Spec. With a small, disinterested sigh, he shrugged, twirling back around on his heel—there was some disappointment in his expression, but it looked more like a small smirk. “What a pity.”

“… _What_?” Aruto hissed, lifting his head slowly.

Amatsu’s smirked widened. “Fuwa Isamu and AIMS were the weapons of ZAIA, and I dislike discarding tools until I am certain I’m done with them.” Another sigh that sounded more like a chuckle, and Thouser reached up and removed the ZAIA Spec and glasses from his face, tucking them away. “Admittedly, now that I’ve acquired Hiden Intelligence…” A shrug. “He would have been useful in the disposal efforts…” The man pretended to think, “… But, in the end, I’ve little use for a dog that bites the hand that feeds it.”

Aruto’s teeth ground together, his eyes narrowing into a glare and his fists clenching again. “… He’s _not_ …” He growled, a ball of heat, a churning, angry fire, beginning to simmer in his chest, “… A _dog_ …!”

Amatsu laughed out loud at that. “Of course he was.” He drawled with another cold smirk, “A dog of ZAIA. Quite a disobedient one, though.”

The knot of fury began to grow, seeping into Aruto’s joints, chasing away the paralysing numbness, allowing him to push himself up, dragging his way to his feet. He was still hunched over, motions sluggish, trembling with anger, but the glare he fixed Amatsu with seemed like it should have melted a hole through titanium. Izu watched him uncertainly, still gripping Fuwa’s hand, glancing nervously between the humans. The fire reached Aruto’s fingers, and they curled up into fists at his sides. “He’s _not_ a _dog_.” He snarled again. “And he’s _definitely_ not **_yours_**.”

Thouser’s horrid laughter echoed through the air around them, bouncing off the walls. “Oh?” Amatsu sneered. “Then whose was he? Yours?” Another awful laugh when that just made Aruto angrier. “Please. He belonged to ZAIA since the day we picked him up off the street after Daybreak.”

Izu narrowed her eyes at him. “… You were manipulating Fuwa-san into becoming Kamen Rider Vulcan from the beginning.”

Amatsu smirked again. “I knew he’d be the perfect candidate. He just needed to be trained.” He replied, tilting his head a little, something a little too like wistfulness entering his voice, “And, despite a few setbacks, he performed exactly as I calculated. He was doing so well…” Thouser clicked his tongue in slight annoyance. “Pity you had to go and interfere. I was even considering having him house broken.”

With an enraged snarl, Aruto charged him, Metal Cluster Hopper flashing into his hand. Amatsu sidestepped the first haphazard, furious swing, pulling out his own Progrise Keys to transform as Aruto spun back around to swing at him again with another yell. Bringing up the ThousandJacker, he blocked that one, locking their weapons. “Come now, I only did the sensible thing.” He drawled, leaning in a little to make sure Aruto could hear him, “Dogs that turn on their masters get put down, that’s how it works.”

They jerked apart, and Amatsu began to circle while Aruto skidded back, pausing to think. Mental commands, Thouser had said, he used the Spec to send mental commands to the chip that in turn forced Fuwa’s brain to send signals—that gave him direct access to Vulcan’s nervous system. A mental command to merely cause pain would be different than a mental command to kill. This wasn’t an accident. “… You didn’t ‘overdo’ shit.” He growled, straightening and clutching the sword tighter, “You did this on purpose.” The fire began to wane, but only to be replaced by something much, _much_ colder. “You killed Fuwa.”

“Did I?” Even through the helmet, Aruto could _hear_ the smirk in Amatsu’s voice. “ _You’re_ the one responsible. If you’d never put any of your idealistic nonsense in his head, this would never have needed to happen.”

Aruto’s head snapped back up to stare at him. “… _Needed_ …?” He hissed quietly, the shaking slowly diminishing, “… This didn’t… Didn’t _need_ to…!” He looked back over his shoulder—Izu was still sitting beside Fuwa, both hands clutching his, though her gaze was focused on Aruto, eyes still wide. Aruto’s eyes fell to Vulcan—he looked weirdly… Peaceful, considering he’d been writhing in agony only a few moments before, and there was no sign of what had actually killed him.

It wasn’t right. Fuwa was strong, reliable. He was a fighter. He wasn’t supposed to die. He _definitely_ wasn’t supposed to die thrashing in pain on the ground as Amatsu used his own brain to torture and then murder him. This didn’t need to happen. This should _never_ have happened.

“Really…” Thouser jeered from behind him, “You should know it’s common courtesy not to meddle with other people’s pets without permission.”

Something snapped. Aruto spun back around and rounded on Amatsu, marching forward. The sloppy hysteria vanished, replaced with blank determination, and he continued pursuing Thouser single-mindedly, shrugging off all attempts to deter him. This should never have happened. He couldn’t turn back time. He couldn’t fix this. But he could _damn_ well make sure the bastard didn’t get away with it.

It was like his brain disconnected from the rest of him, his body running on nothing but rage and grief that had now frozen over. Eventually, Amatsu stopped trying to taunt him when he merely didn’t let up, but it was still a losing fight. It was soon, far sooner than usual, it seemed, when one last solid attack sent Thouser sprawling across the ground, knocking him out of his transformation, struggling to get up. For a moment, Aruto faltered—but then Fuwa’s screaming echoed in his head again, and he saw Vulcan convulsing in his arms once more, remembered the moment life had vanished from the other Rider’s eyes… He advanced on Amatsu again, raising the sword.

It was so _easy_ now. Had he been holding back all this time? Hesitation? Guilt from before? It felt so foolish now. Amatsu didn’t deserve _any_ mercy. Maybe if he had realised that sooner, this would never have…

“Aruto-shachou!” Hands closed around his sword arm, pulling it down and dragging him up short. “Stop!”

His head snapped around to find Izu at his side, holding tightly to his arm, eyes wide and frantic. He tried to shake his arm free, but she refused to budge—even holding on tighter, wrapping both arms around his elbow. “Let go.” She merely shook her head. He attempted to drag her forward with him, but she dug he heels into the ground, creating sparks, anchoring him to the spot.

“Stop.” She repeated, more quietly, but more emotionally. “Please.”

Aruto turned away from her pleading expression to focus on Amatsu again—and just looking at the man’s smug face made him remember the way Fuwa’s heartbeat had faded into silence. He tried to pull his arm free again. “He killed Fuwa.”

“I… I know.” Her voice shook slightly. “But… Fuwa-san wouldn’t want this for you. Not again.”

Aruto’s gaze flitted further back. Izu had carefully folded Fuwa’s hands over his chest before getting up, and the sight was so painfully surreal. The only times he’d ever seen Vulcan be so still had been when Amatsu was controlling him—normally, he’d be fidgeting, looking around, pacing. Never the sort to sit in one place for too long. Even when he was focusing. Aruto remembered the night Fuwa had shown up unexpectedly at the old warehouse while he’d been sitting up after another guilt-induced nightmare, how he’d ended up confiding in the other Rider because Vulcan had, at some point, become so _easy_ to talk to. Fuwa had fidgeted as he spoke, but he’d never had any doubt the other Rider was listening—especially when Vulcan didn’t pull away when Aruto, in an exhausted, emotional haze, had thrown his arms around his middle and began sobbing into his chest.

Fuwa had gone from pulling his gun at the slightest thing with HumaGear, to holding him while he cried from guilt at having killed one, having played into Amatsu’s trap. It had been Fuwa who tried to stop him every time Metal Cluster Hopper tried to carry him over the edge again. Fuwa who had fought his own body to a standstill rather than shoot Izu. Gone from an uncontrollable trigger hand to the one keeping Aruto anchored. The one person he trusted to be at his back. His support. His gravity. Filled a hole in his soul that had been empty since his father died. Without Fuwa… Under the helmet, he felt tears in his eyes again.

Amatsu had stolen something from him he could never get back. Again. Fuwa had stayed in his corner, even when all he’d ever done was play into Amatsu’s hands. And… He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head, block out the world for a moment. Even now, even if he did this, he’d still be doing that, wouldn’t he? Thouser would still have the last laugh.

_Whatever happens, promise me you will not do_ anything _he wants_.

Fuwa had refused to give in, had held onto his senses, had defied Amatsu right through to the very end. If he went over the edge now, give the man even the _slightest_ satisfaction… He would be disgracing everything Vulcan had stood and fought for. Everything Fuwa Isamu had meant to him.

Very slowly, with great, conscious effort, he forced his body to relax. Using his other arm, he reached down to the Driver and removed the Key, taking deep breaths as the suit dissipated. Izu waited for a moment, but he didn’t even look up at her—finally, she released his arm, stepping back.

Lifting his head just enough to fix Amatsu with another, even more venomous glare, Aruto shifted his weight to face Thouser head on. “Get out of my sight.” He ordered, voice dangerously level. “Or I will kill you.”

Scrambling to his feet, it seemed for a moment like Amatsu was about to argue, or sneer something else—but then he just sensibly shut his mouth. “… Yaiba.” Spinning around on his heel, he began to march away… Then froze.

Yaiba hadn’t moved. She was still sitting on the ground, staring at Fuwa’s body. She looked like she was in some sort of trance.

Thouser frowned, turning back and taking a step toward her. “Yaiba.” He repeated, a little more forcefully.

Finally, she glanced over at him—only to look away again. “… No.”

Amatsu stared at her in clear shock. Aruto had nothing left in him to be surprised, so he just looked at her blankly. Izu didn’t react, either—instead, she turned around herself and hurried back over to kneel beside Vulcan again, taking his hand in hers once more. Yaiba, meanwhile, watched them instead of either of the Presidents.

Finally, Thosuer broke the silence. “… Excuse me?”

“I said no.” Valkyrie repeated, a little louder, her voice slightly stronger. “I’m not going.”

Amatsu seemed to have no idea how to react. “You’re not… I am-”

At last, she tilted her head to look at him. “What are you going to do?” Despite gaining confidence, there was something tired and indifferent about her tone. “Kill me?” She looked back at Izu and Fuwa. “… Fine. Go ahead. I don’t care anymore.”

It should have been satisfying to see Thouser fuming, but it still felt empty as the man strode back over to Valkyrie. “This is unacceptable. I-”

In a flash, the woman snapped out of her stillness, shooting to her feet—and cold cocked him. Amatsu hit the ground again, floundering. The ZAIA Spec dropped from his coat, sliding across the cement. He made a grab for it, but Yaiba brought her shoe down on top of it, crushing both the earpiece and the glasses in one step. “There.” She spat, energy coming into her voice in the form of icy venom. “Now there’s no reason for you to stay.” She kicked the remains of the Spec toward him. “Go.” Her voice broke on the last syllable.

Thouser scrambled to his feet, looking furious, eyes blazing—but, in the end, he merely glowered at them for a moment before spinning on his heel and marching off without a word.

The moment he was out of sight, Valkyrie dropped to her knees again, shaking. Aruto managed to stay upright for a few more moments—then he twisted around to stumble back over to fall to the ground on Fuwa’s other side, slumping forward and burying his face in the other Rider’s still chest once more. No one said anything.

In the span of just a few moments, everything had changed.


End file.
